


Your Highness

by lilfinch



Category: Black Friday - Team StarKid, The Guy Who Didn't Like Musicals - Team StarKid
Genre: F/M, Happy Ending, Paul Matthews F U C K S, Royalty AU, a healthy and proportionate dose of pining, endgame smut but like, it’s a two shot, very light angst, with some nice piratey undertones because I couldn’t decide on an aesthetic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-09
Updated: 2020-06-09
Packaged: 2021-03-03 20:00:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 10,425
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24621238
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lilfinch/pseuds/lilfinch
Summary: As the princess of her kingdom, Emma Perkins isn’t subject to conspiracy often, that is, until she is and suddenly she is in a rush to find the solution to her ever-imminent problem. Lucky for her, that solution comes where she least expects it...
Relationships: Paul Matthews/Emma Perkins
Comments: 28
Kudos: 36





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Self control? Zero but I had lots of fun so it doesn’t matter.
> 
> Giant shoutout to @tutselutse for helping me with this, I couldn’t have done it without you 😭❤️
> 
> Have fun ig ✌️

Emma Perkins stared at herself in a mirror, frowning.

She could faintly hear the sounds of the ball drifting from the floor below, thick chatter spread like melting butter across the glittery orchestral music. Emma could imagine the people crowded tightly into the ballroom, whispering amongst themselves and laughing and drinking. Her throat tightened into a knot.

She ran her hand across her stomach, her dark gaze flitting across the dress. It was spectacular, really, the deep manganese violet of her family crest, elegant but flowy at the bottom, intricately sequined at the top. The sleeves began at her mid-forearm, hanging off of her shoulders and made of the same thin, transparent lace that ran across the bottom of the dress.

“I feel like a clown,” Emma mumbled. Her hair was already falling out of the tightly coiled, braided bun at the back of her head, a few strands already slipping from the hold and framing her face. It almost looked purposeful.

Emma looked over at the hulking bodyguard beside her, waiting for a response. His gaze slid to her, then slid back. Wordless, as usual. Creepy, as usual. A shiver ran down Emma’s spine.

“You’re useless,” she groaned.

“You’re late,” was the gruff reply. Emma could feel her palms sweating and she took a shaky breath, casting one more sideways glance at the bodyguard. Her chest tightened.

_ “He’s for your protection, Emma.” _

_ “I can protect myself.” _

_ “Not from them. If they want to get you then they will get you. He is from me, you can trust him, Princess.” _

Her hands began to shake as she thought back to Hidgens, her tutor. The shadows from the dim candlelight stretched menacingly through Emma’s room, illuminating only her face. If she stared at the yellowed darkness behind her long enough, she swore she could make a face out of the fuzzy figures. But when she turned around, nothing was there. Just her and the bodyguard, bathed in yellow candlelight and silver moonlight. And darkness.

“The Queen is waiting, Your Highness.” Why the stupid bodyguard was so concerned with the Queen if he was sent by Professor Hidgens was beyond Emma. She didn’t trust him as much as she should. Then again, she wasn’t sure if she trusted anybody.

_ “There’s a plot, Your Highness.” _

_ “You’re being paranoid, Hidgens.” _

_ “I wish I was, Emma. They want you out of the line for the throne.” _

_ “What, so Zoey can take my place? That’s ridiculous, my half-sister is an ass but she wouldn’t be so cruel so as to… so as to kill me.” _

_ “Not the Princess Zoey, perhaps. The Queen, however…” _

_ “I don’t know what you’ve heard, Henry. It’s not true. Nora wouldn’t either. She loved my father, and even if she doesn’t love me… she wouldn’t…” _

_ “Think about it, Princess. The King and your sister die after his marrying the Queen and bearing her with child, leaving you without any blood-ties to the Queen. Of course she would want her blood kin to be the successor.” _

_ “Nora would not  _ scheme _ , Professor.” _

_ “Her followers would.” _

_ “You’re being unreasonable. I know the court doesn’t like me but they pity me, and they don’t hate me enough to try to get rid of me.” _

_ “Take the bodyguard anyway, Princess. Just for the sake of your old tutor.” _

And she had, despite the fact that he was quiet and creepy and would not leave her be.

And then Emma started to hear the whispers. The side eyes. People watched and whispered, and luckily for Emma, the only skill she managed to have developed growing up in a castle brimming with conversations she wasn’t supposed to be a part of was a very attentive ear. Emma listened.

And she heard.

Charlotte, the dear, cowardly, brave thing, had come up to her completely out of nowhere one night as Emma retreated to her room. Her baby blue eyes had been widened, and a fearful look twisted her features. She’d grabbed Emma’s arm, and had opened her mouth when footsteps echoed from somewhere deep within the shadowed halls of the castle.

Charlotte’s mouth had clamped shut and she’d mumbled something about having a good night and left, leaving Emma standing, gaping in the hallway.

Alright, so maybe something was wrong.

_ “Professor! Professor, you were right.” _

_ “I know I was, Emma. We have to get you to safety.” _

_ “What am I supposed to do? Run? I’ve only ever left the castle for those stupid parades they have us do around town. I’m defenseless, Professor. Oh gods-” _

_ “Calm down, Emma. You have me. And I have people. We’ll get you out of this.” _

_ “Gods, I don’t even  _ want _ to rule!” _

_ “What?” _

_ “I wouldn’t be a good leader, they hate me in court and they probably hate me in town, too. I would gladly let Zoey take my place if the stupid crown rules didn’t require the oldest to take the throne no matter what.” _

_ “You don’t want to rule, Emma?” _

_ “No, gods no. Help me, Professor.” _

_ “I’ll do what I can.” _

She remembered Hidgens’ face, the grim sort of composition he always bore, mangled to an almost extreme point. She could never tell what he was truly feeling, what lay behind his unfocused eyes, which was fascinating because that was the other thing she was good at. Henry Hidgens was permanently concerned and he wore it like a mask.

Emma supposed she should be grateful for it. Her bodyguard made some sort of a noise and snapped Emma out of her thoughts. She nodded. 

“Alright, let’s go.”

However much she wanted to, she couldn’t avoid this night. Emma began to open the door and she sighed. This friendless, chaotic, passive-aggression filled night. Emma began to walk out, completely unaware of the fact that somebody was directly in front of her.

Emma yelped when she crashed into a chest, and the bodyguard pulled her back quickly.

“I’m so sorry, Your Highness!”

Emma looked up, and relief washed over her. “Paul,” she said quietly. Hidgens’ apprentice, Emma reconsidered her thoughts from before. Maybe she had one friend.

Paul bowed quickly, and even in the thin candlelight she could see the intense blush that burned his cheeks. Emma smiled and laughed lightly, dropping into a small curtsy.

Paul Matthews was relatively new to the castle, only having been apprenticed to Hidgens for a few months. He straightened and clasped his hands behind his back, a move that seemed polite but that Emma could definitely tell was a nervous habit.

Nervous he may be, a hilarious but exhausting contrast to Hidgens’ paranoia, but he was kind to her. Friendly, when he forgot who she was. Bold, in those moments, when it was just the two of them, talking and laughing, sneaking through the castle.

Then, of course, there was that night in the abandoned astronomy tower. Here, the way the moonlight filtered very thinly from the window of her bedroom and tangled with the dimness of the flickering candle flame made Paul’s shockingly blue eyes light up and his skin glow. It almost reminded her of that night. Emma’s skin heated at her neck at the thought of it, his hands on her waist, his mouth at her neck, her bottom lip trapped between his teeth, breathy moans in her ear. Bold, indeed.

The bodyguard cleared his stupid throat. Emma snapped to attention, as did Paul. They’d been staring for too long, his scarlet blush had not faded.

“You look absolutely stunning, Your Highness.” Paul said, bowing his head politely. Emma didn’t feel absolutely stunning, she felt awkward and graceless. If the bodyguard was not standing right next to her, she might have said this, but instead she smiled.

“Thank you, Paul. As do you.” He did, really. He wore a black tunic under high waisted pants, a ruffled ascot, and a very intricately patterned black and blue overcoat, blue for the colors of the tutor and with the violet cuffs of Emma’s family crest at the sleeves. 

He smiled brightly at her, pulling at his sleeves and Emma felt a twang at her heart. Something about the permanent awkwardness that was Paul Matthews was impossibly endearing. He looked uncomfortable in the formalwear, though that was not to say that he didn’t look uncomfortable in practically everything she saw him in, from his tutors robes to his loungewear.

“Were you planning on joining the ball?” Emma asked, praying that the hopeful lilt in her tone didn’t appear too pathetic.

Paul’s face fell slightly, and he looked down the hall. “Hidgens asked me to see him in private for a few moments before I joined the festivities. I’ll see you in a bit?” There was hopefulness in his voice, too.

Emma smiled softly, “I’ll see you then.” Paul nodded and bowed once more, his gaze meeting hers with careful intention as he bowed and stood, watching Emma while she turned and left.

The mildly good mood that Paul had put her in evaporated into the thick, stuffy air the moment she stepped foot into the ballroom. A few eyes turned to her, a few bowed heads and mumbled welcomes. Emma’s gaze swept across the room, looking for something, anything to distract her.

“Emma!” Her name was called from somewhere within the room, and soon Zoey appeared, dressed in a glittery, giant dress the same manganese violet as Emma’s, per royal custom, but streaked with lavender. She grabbed hold of Emma’s arm, and with surprise and a little relief Emma wondered if Zoey was dragging her into the dance to socialize.

Of course, this was disproved when the first words out of her half-sister's mouth were, “Gods, you are always late to anything of importance to me! The orchestra hasn’t started dances because you haven’t showed up yet. Mom is livid!”

Emma groaned as Zoey dragged her through the crowd of people. The Queen was talking to some court-person, the thrones in place at the end of the room for her, the King, and Emma empty. She was smiling, though the moment her icy gaze slid to her daughter and step-daughter, the grin dropped from her lips. She excused herself from the conversation and turned around to situate herself on her throne.

Emma mumbled an apology and sat on hers, Zoey taking her place standing next to her throne. The King’s remained empty.

“I don’t want to be here,” Emma muttered to Zoey.

“You’re so lame,” was the whispered reply as the chattering excitement in the ballroom began to steadily fall silent at the sight of the three of them situated in their thrones. Zoey offered no comfort, and Emma’s jaw tightened as all eyes turned towards her.

The Queen cleared her throat once the ballroom had fallen dead silent, and nodded her head at the orchestra. The music picked up immediately. From the corner of her eye, Emma could see Zoey fidget excitedly.

“I wish we didn’t have to wait until after the first song to join them.” Zoey said airily.

“You don’t have to wait until the first song,” Emma replied. Zoey huffed in annoyance.

“I know we have to wait until someone approaches us and asks to dance but no one asks until after the first song. It’s like some unspoken rule or something.” There was a pause, and when it became evident that Emma wasn’t going to reply Zoey looked over at her with a small smirk. “Of course  _ you _ usually wait for the first three songs.”

Emma sighed, debating whether or not she wanted to argue with Zoey, but she was… distracted. It felt like every person in the room was staring at her, watching her. Like they all knew. Like they were all waiting. Like the main event was coming.

The fear settled in Emma’s stomach clawed at her, and the sound of the orchestra became dulled and fuzzy, moving around her head like a swarm of bees. Her breathing became heavier. Somebody was saying her name. Louder and louder, it pounded in her ears, her hands shook viciously and-

“Emma!” She startled and turned to face Zoey, who was staring at her with a very bewildered look. “Gods, are you alright? You look like you’re about to pass out.”

Emma blinked and swallowed, “I- I think I need some water.”

Zoey sighed, “Mom’s going to kill you if you stand up. Give me one moment.” A man lingering around the three of them, obviously waiting for the moment the song ended to ask Zoey to dance, caught eye contact with her. He opened his mouth, smiling, when Zoey snapped her fingers and jolted her head to the side. He looked confused, but eventually got the point.

“Oh! Ah, right. Princess Emma, may I ask for this first dance?” He bowed dramatically and Emma stood up, surprised that she didn’t topple over immediately. She wanted to turn and thank Zoey, but the man held his arm out for her to slip her hand through. Emma only did to stabilize herself. He offered her his drink and she took it, sipping on the bitter wine. Her vision was still hazy. Everyone was looking, weren’t they? Everyone knew. She had to get out.

“I need to visit the privy.” She said, her voice mangled in a way that made the man drop his arm. He nodded, watching Emma as she left. Shoulders bumped into hers and she took another gulp of wine. It wasn’t helping. It stung on its way down her throat and Emma stumbled. She was almost out. Were people apologizing? Is that what the words were? The orchestral music was heavy in her ears and she felt like she was moving through a thick swamp of sound.

There was the exit. Emma pushed herself into the empty, dark hallway and leaned against the wall, gasping for breath. Something felt wrong. So, so wrong.

Emma drank more of the wine and cringed. Her skin was buzzing, and her stomach twisted. Her face contorted in pain and her throat felt like it was closing. What was in this wine? Emma looked down at it, squinting, when a huge, meaty hand clamped around her wrist. 

Emma gasped and let go of the glass, letting it shatter against the floor. She looked up, meeting the beady gaze of her bodyguard.

“Wh- What are you-”

He tugged on her arm, beginning to drag her down the corridor and Emma let out a small shriek, only to have his other hand clamp around her mouth. Instinctively, her knee fired up into his groin, and he let out a groan, his grip on her wrist loosening just enough that Emma could tear it from his hand. 

She took off down the hallway, her vision blurring in her eyes. Usually she knew the castle like the back of her hand, but now, the twisted hallways were black and identical, and she crashed into the walls as she turned sharp corner after sharp corner.

Emma’s feet were beginning to feel heavier and heavier, and her hands were numb and her breath cold in her raw throat. Gods,  _ what _ was  _ in _ that wine? The sound of a voice cut muddily through the inky haze that draped itself like a lead cloak over her shoulders. Emma let out a small scream of terror as she crashed into something hard, arms wrapped around her waist, her hands clawed blindly in front of her, and then there was black.

~

Humidity clung to Emma’s skin like honey.

She slowly slid back into consciousness, her head buzzing with a dull, pressured sort of pain that throbbed against her skull. Emma tried to shift, but came to a slow realization.

Her hands were bound. The ground below her was unsteady, rickety, and the sounds of wooden wheels against dirt and tree roots rattled in her ears. She was in a carriage.

Panic clamped it’s cold hands around Emma’s throat and with effort, she swallowed. Whoever she was with hadn’t realized she was awake yet. She had time, and the element of surprise. If she could just figure out who-

“Your Highness, is she awake yet?” A soft voice sounded from outside as the carriage came to a slow stop. There was movement in the cart and Emma stilled, keeping her eyes closed, her heart beating loudly in her ears.

“Not yet, keep moving. Whatever drugged her really did a number, we’ll try to cover as much distance as we can before sunrise, and before she wakes up.”

Wait, Emma knew that voice. Her eyes snapped open, and she stiffened. Paul was hanging out the opened back of the carriage, one hand gripping the roof of it as he spoke to someone Emma couldn’t see. They were in the forest, and the muggy nighttime hung thickly in the air. 

Anger rose heatedly in Emma’s chest. Paul had been in on the plan the whole time? Had he been using her, getting close to her, just so that she could trust him when he kidnapped her and took her away to be  _ slaughtered _ ? Emma closed her eyes, trying to steady her breath. And that night in the astronomy tower… 

Emma pushed down the shame that bubbled inside of her and opened her eyes, staring at the back of Paul’s head. The carriage had begun moving once more, and he was sitting on the edge of the carriage, his feet hanging out of the back as he watched the wooded trail unfold behind them. He was still in his heavy black, ruffled tunic, tucked into the loose black pants.

Emma looked down. She was still in the cursed ball gown, though there was an extra layer thrown over her like a blanket. Emma glanced back up at Paul, making the connection between his missing overcoat and the one laying atop her.

Her binds were loose, and there was about a half foot of rope connecting her wrists. A plan formed in Emma’s mind.

She narrowed her eyes and shifted, praying that the rattling of the carriage as it was pulled over the uneven, rough trail covered the sounds of her moving about. Carefully, she crawled over to Paul, her hands tightening into balled fists as she raised them above her head and then brought them down suddenly in front of Paul’s face. She yanked back, the rope catching around Paul’s throat.

He yelped in surprise, but the noise was cut off when Emma pulled back harder, digging her knee into his back. Suddenly, he spun around, his hand rising and closing loosely around Emma’s throat, pushing her back into the carriage.

She gasped as she was forced onto her back, struggling to get her bound hands unstuck from behind Paul’s neck but he pressed her into the wooden planks of the carriage.

“Emma! What the fuck!”

His hand still weak but firm around her neck to keep her from sitting up and leaning on his other arm, Paul looked very bewildered and his breathing was scratchy and rough in his throat. Emma jerked her shoulders, trying to pry herself loose of his grip and Paul lifted his hand and placed it on the other side of her head. 

“You…  _ You!”  _ She cried, and Paul shook his head.

“Emma, it’s not what you think, I pro-”

“I  _ trusted _ you! You were the only one I really… that I really…”

Tears welled in her eyes and she went limp. Sadness etched into Paul’s face and he sat up, pulling Emma up with him as her hands were still caught around the back of his neck.

“I’m rescuing you, Your Highness,” Paul said softly, reaching behind him and pulling Emma’s hands over his head. “The binds were purely precautionary, I apologize.”

“You’re… rescuing me?”

“I’m not taking you to be executed,” Paul explained as he unwrapped the rope from her wrists, “actually, I’m taking you to a safe house.”

“A safe house?”

Paul tossed the rope to the back of the carriage and looked up at Emma, mindlessly rubbing her wrists to soothe any irritation. “How do you feel about boats?”

“Boats?”

“Boats. Ships.”

Emma blinked slowly at Paul, trying to sort through the muddled maze of her mind. Things were still so hazy, and confusing. She wanted to trust Paul, so badly…

“I have never been on one for an extended period of time,” she replied, her gaze focused intensely into Paul’s. There was something soothing about the icy sharpness of his blue eyes, like just peering into them helped whet the fuzziness in her mind.

“That’s fine,” Paul said very quietly, his gaze flitting around Emma’s face. What was he looking for? One hand had shifted to rubbing her palm with his thumb and the other raised to her face, very carefully tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. “They drugged you. At the ball. When I was called into Hidgens’ quarters, he was warning me that they were planning on… on going forth with the attempt sooner than previously expected. He only found out by luck, somebody had been feeding information to the Queen. It was a miracle that you found me before they found you.”

Emma thought back to the guard, his fingers clamped around her wrist, his hand moving to cover her mouth. “The bodyguard…” Emma said quietly. “He was the… he was the informant.”

Something hard crossed Paul’s face. Something unfamiliar. Emma realized only then that she had never seen Paul angry, but before she could fully take in the expression, it dropped from his features. The same sad softness returned, and Paul lightly cupped Emma’s cheek.

“I’m sorry, Your Highness, that everything had happened so suddenly. And without your awareness, too. Hidgens was the one that insisted on binding you. Something about your fight or flight instincts being very inconsistent.” A wary smile tugged at his lips. “I suppose he was right about that.”

“Right…” Emma whispered slowly, her gaze finally dropping from Paul’s and lowering to his neck. She couldn’t tell through the thick night if her panicked move had left marks, so she raised the hand not held by him and drew her fingertips across his skin on his throat, feeling for indents. “Sorry.”

Paul smiled softly and pulled his hands away from her, watching her for a few moments before speaking. “It’s alright, it’s good to know that you can take care of yourself.”

Something about that struck a chord in Emma and she cast her dark gaze outside of the carriage. “I’ve barely been outside of the castle. Zoey likes to sneak out and dress down and walk around town. I’m beginning to wish I took her up on her offers to join her.”

“If you had been fully intentioned to kill me I have complete certainty that you would have and could have, Your Highness,” Paul said, chuckling awkwardly. Emma’s gaze lowered. Paul’s smile dropped. “We can further discuss it at a different time. For now, you should sleep. If you can.”

Emma’s jaw clenched and her gaze turned slowly back to him. “I… I don’t know.” She felt exhausted, but…

Paul nodded. “I will be right here, should you choose to rest. There’s extra clothing in the back of the carriage, too.” He looked Emma up and down and smiled warily. “You looked stunning tonight. Though you seemed very uncomfortable.”

At this, Emma did grin. “I could say the same for yourself.” Paul shook his head as Emma stood up and dug through the clothes in the back.

He turned his back to her respectfully, watching outside the carriage. “I hate every bit of clothing I’m forced to wear in that place. It’s all so stuffy and heavy and awkward. I feel like I can’t move, much less breathe.”

Emma snorted inelegantly as she untied the back lacing of the dress. “Try wearing a corset.”

Paul groaned and Emma laughed. “Gods, I couldn’t  _ imagine. _ ” 

She grinned at his disbelief as the dress pooled at her feet. Paul heard the heavy material drop to the floorboards and he stiffened visibly. Emma smirked and rolled her eyes as he cleared his throat, tugging uncomfortably at the ruffled collar of his shirt.

Emma held up the clothing offered and squinted. The dress was made out of an incredibly light, waffle-stitched wool fabric that was an earthy orange, like clay. A few simple ties crossed in the front breast and a thick, leather belt was folded on the ground to go around the waist. Emma raised an eyebrow. The making and the style were unlike anything she had seen in her city.

The common dress of her kingdom was a thick linen blouse and layered, heavy skirts to account for the usual frost of the mountainside. As Emma pulled it on over the black pants provided, she found that despite feeling very cold, she could move easily.

“This clothing… I have never seen anything like it.” Paul flinched to turn around but didn’t.

“It’s the clothing of my hometown. A much warmer climate, I apologize if you’re cold. There should be a cloak in the corner.” Emma turned, and sure enough, a black coat was crumpled in the corner of the carriage back. She lifted the cloak, and blinked in surprise. Under it was a cutlass sword, the curved blade glinting in the moonlight. Strange.

She pulled the cloak around her shoulders and sat by Paul. “Your sword is also unfamiliar to my kingdom. What is your hometown?”

Paul shifted uncomfortably and tugged at the tightly cuffed sleeves around his wrists, as if desperate to push his sleeves up but unable to. “A small coastal village. It’s a day and a half’s travel by boat.”

Emma nodded quietly and tilted her chin up towards the sky, drinking in the moonlight that filtered through the gaps in the treetops. She was impossibly conflicted. Some part of her wanted to stay, for the people that didn’t love her, for the half-sister that could have, for the Queen that could never. For her father. For Jane. But still… every leftover inch of her person screamed to leave,  _ begged _ to. A confusingly ecstatic excitement fueled a cold fire beneath her skin, an itching in her heartbeat to run and never look back.

She turned to look at Paul, only to find him staring at her with an unreadable expression. He didn’t look away. Emma reveled in the shadowed expression in his eyes; what it exactly was, she could not tell, but there was a curious sort of reverence in the way he looked at her. Paul was the one to see through to the guilty, consuming desire. It had already been put into motion, and Emma couldn’t stop it if she tried, but something hadn’t quite clicked yet that she was already gone.

Maybe it was because she was sitting at the edge of the back of a cart, her feet hanging over the edge like she was going to jump out and run back to the castle, quite literally facing back towards where she was running from.

And yet, the sharpness in Paul’s eyes was an oddly familiar, soothing contrast to the sticky, bubbling emotions that left wispy, blood-like branches in her veins. The calmness of it was like rain, thick rain that pounded against dirt roads in a steady manner. 

She watched as his gaze trailed down to her lips and then back up.

“Did you know you glow in the moonlight,” Paul whispered. In itself, it seemed a vaguely cliche line, but coming from him, the genuineness was flooding through his tone.

“Do I?” Was the only thing Emma could think to reply with because she, in fact, had not known this.

Paul nodded slowly, his eyes focused intently on her. “You do. You’re very beautiful, Your Highness. I hope that doesn’t seem out of place, but I felt like you needed to know.”

Emma’s lips parted slightly and she tipped her chin towards Paul. Heavy-lidded, his hand raised to her chin, her pointer finger tracing her jaw. He leaned into her, and then kissed her cheek, softly.

“You should sleep, Your Highness.” Emma blinked at him, feeling her cheeks heat up in embarrassment. Her heart was pounding viciously against her chest, and, unable to speak, she nodded and laid back in the carriage, using Paul’s discarded overcoat as a pillow.

She turned her back to him, shame burning in her throat as thoughts of the night in the astronomy tower made an unwarranted appearance in her mind. The two of them ditching classes to spend the day together, wandering the restricted parts of the library, Paul pushing the bookshelf blocking the door to the side. Him leading her up the musty stairs, laughing the entire time. The two of them watching the stars through the glass ceiling of the abandoned astronomy tower, taking turns at the unfocused, dusty telescope.

Him kissing her softly and slowly, like gentle, lakeside waves, her hands in his hair, his tongue on her collarbone. Even if that was all they had done that night, Emma couldn’t ignore the pulsing want that hummed under her skin. It was reckless and infuriatingly stupid, but fun and exciting and somehow right.

She gave into the urge to turn over to face him, keeping her eyes closed so as to not know if he watched her. Things had changed now, hadn’t they? The way he looked at her hadn’t, but his already withdrawn movements were now even more cautious and hesitant. A brief flash of anger heated Emma’s skin. What was she, some sort of precious cargo?

It took her a moment to understand that yes, that was exactly what she was.

But, above all, he was not hers and she was not his.

Emma felt his icy gaze burning into her skin as she drifted off to sleep.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Smut? In my fanfiction? More likely than you’d think.
> 
> Last part, thank you for everything ❤️ I love this fandom with all my heart ❤️

“We’re here.” When Emma woke, the darkness was still etched into the night sky. Paul held his hand out for her to sit up, and she took it.

“Where’s here?”

“A far away dock. We had to go a little out of the way to avoid being chased.”

Emma slipped from the carriage and turned to Paul. He had changed, as well. His oversized, white shirt seemed to be made out of the same material as her dress. The laces at the chest were similar, as well, though his were untied and the shirt, almost hanging off of his shoulder, was tucked into high-waisted black pants with three silver buttons down either side of his hips. He’d kept the almost knee-high boots from the ball, the shiny black tops glinting in the moonlight.

“You look…” Emma trailed off, unsure how to express just how the sight made her mouth go dry. “Good.”

He smiled at her and reached back into the carriage, pulling out the cutlass sword from the back. 

“Pa- uh, sir. The ship is docked and ready for boarding. We need to move fast.” The guard that had been driving the carriage, previously disguised in the dress of a royal guard now had a similar outfit on, his with a long overcoat. 

Paul nodded, “Thanks, Bill.”

“Does Her Highness need an escort?” Bill asked, turning to Emma. Paul’s eyes slid over to her and he shook his head, holding out his arm for her to take. Carefully, Emma took the crook of his elbow in her hand.

“We’ll be fine, sir. Thank you,” she said with a polite dip of her head. Bill nodded and turned away.

The crew on the ship was bustling. 

“Put your hood up,” Paul whispered, and Emma flicked up the hood of her cloak, her eyes shifting around the deck. The people on it were dressed in the same light, breezy, loose clothing that she and Paul were in, and Emma suddenly came to the realization that Paul’s coastal town was in trading business with her kingdom and that they were unloading shipments here. Emma was not expected here, and she had to remain hidden.

She followed Paul as he determinedly set a course down into the lower decks and past the few individual cabins. He led her to the last one at the end of the creaking wooden hall, holding a lantern out in front of him. The two of them cast long shadows against the walls and Emma squeezed Paul’s arm tighter. 

He opened the door and closed it behind them. Emma looked around the room. It was simple enough, a bed against the wall in the middle of the room, three candles on the desk in the corner, only one of them lit. There was a small, circular, dusty window above the desk, and she could see thin moonlight filtered through it.

“Thank you,” Emma said, turning to Paul, only to find that he was watching her very intently. In the palm of his hand was a tricorn hat she hadn’t even noticed he had, and, without tearing his narrowed gaze from hers, Paul placed the hat on his head and tipped the front down.

“I’ll be back to bring you food. It’s not safe on the upper deck, so I would try to get some rest. Is that… okay?” 

“That’s fine, thank you,” was the murmured reply, and Emma tried to ignore the strong pulsing of her heartbeat as, with two fingers, he tilted her chin up and kissed her cheek.

Paul pulled away and turned around, though he paused in the doorway. “There’s a storm on the way, don’t be alarmed when it starts pouring. This ship is well equipped for it. There’s comfier clothes on the bed, I’ll be back soon.” With that, he left.

With a long, slow sigh, Emma walked backwards and fell back onto the bed. Paul was different here. Different when he put different clothes on, different the moment he stepped foot on the creaky wooden boards of the ship. It wasn’t a bad different. He seemed more self-assured. Confident. Serious. It was an interesting turn.

She rolled onto her side and eyed the folded clothing. It was a different material. Emma paused before sitting up and holding up the dressing gown. It looked expensive. A white robe with silver trim, the gown was soft and silky under her touch. It looked like something she would wear at the palace. 

The fleeting thought that Paul had bought it for her crossed Emma’s mind, though soon dissipated with a crack of thunder sounding from outside. She glanced out the rounded window and began to hear the pittering of rain on the floorboards above her and against the glass.

“He was right,” she murmured to no one in particular.

After a few moments of indecision, Emma took off the thick leather belt and slipped out of the dress and pants, feeling flushed as she pulled the dressing gown on. It was impossibly smooth against her skin, and she smiled and nestled further into it as she wrapped the thick silver tie around her waist.

There were very few moments when Emma felt like a princess, and most of them were negative moments. But for some strange reason, here, wrapped in this dressing gown, feeling the ship take off from the dock and the floor rock under her, she felt, maybe not like a princess, exactly, but royal. Important. Cared for. It had been a while since she felt cared for.

There was yelling above her. The rain picked up, now heavy, dull slaps against the ship's hull.

Emma glanced towards the door, then at the cloak. Something was still off about the entire situation, no matter how important she felt. She was sure she could easily disguise herself. Maybe. But was it worth it?

A few moments of hesitation was all it took for Emma to slip the heavy black cloak over her shoulders and leave the confines of the cabin.

The upper deck was just as chaotic as it had sounded. Men and women ran around, yelling a healthy mixture of profanity and instructions. Emma stuck to the side of the stair shed, quietly watching for Paul through the thick sheets of rain that pelted against her, already seeping through the cloak.

She squinted when she found him. He was absolutely soaked through, his white shirt clinging to his chest. There was a large smile upon his face as he ran around the deck, talking to the crew members and… Emma’s eyebrows furrowed, yelling orders?

She leaned forward closer to listen. A tall, dark haired man in a leather vest was snickering at Paul. 

“How’s the girl, then, Paul?” He asked, smacking the tip of the tricorn hat down so that collected water spilled from it.

Paul rolled his eyes and pushed his hat back up, an unamused expression across his face. “She’s safe below deck, Ted.”

The crew member, Ted, grinned, “Maybe I’ll go down, welcome her aboard, bring her something warm to eat.” Paul’s brow furrowed as his hand went to the cutlass sword on his belt, and Ted raised his hands in surrender. “Alright, Princey, alright. I get the point. You’re being awfully protective of some pampered royal.”

Emma blinked, biting her lip. She’d thought that only Paul and the guard he’d brought knew she was there. And where was “Princey” coming from?

Bill suddenly materialized from the swath of yelling crewmembers, “Ted, you can be quiet. His Highness is doing the girl a great service.” Emma’s stomach twisted in unease. What was going on here? What hadn’t Paul told her?

“Oh, ‘a great service’ I’m sure,” Ted jeered, wiping rainwater from his eyes, “I’m sure our Prince here has  _ no _ other ulterior motives. He’s just doing this from the kindness of his heart.” Ted placed a hand on his heart and bowed mockingly. Paul’s scowl deepened visibly and Bill took notice, putting a hand on his shoulder.

“And you’re getting too close to His Highness for comfort,” he warned, “where’s your respect? At least Paul isn’t courting a married member of the royal court.”

Ted’s mocking grin flickered and he pointed an angry finger at Bill, “Yeah, well at least I’m still getting some. And she’s not a part of  _ my _ court anyway.”

Paul groaned and rolled his eyes, “Alright, Ted, we get it. Nobody goes down except for me to bring her food, okay? She thinks that this ship is just doing routine trading. The people on board aren’t supposed to know she’s a princess and she certainly isn’t supposed to know what I am, understood?”

Emma felt her heart sink to her stomach. She let out a shaky breath. She should have known not to trust Paul, she should have  _ known. _ She took a few steps back, and the moment she did, a crack of lightning ran a bright, jagged streak through the sky. Startled, Emma’s heel slipped on the wet floorboards and she fell back, with a small yelp. Paul turned around, his face momentarily illuminated by another crack of lightning as it slowly melted into shock.

“Emma?”

She stood up quickly and, without another word, took off down the stairs.

“Emma! Wait!”

She could hear Paul running after her, but Emma didn’t look back, setting a focused goal on getting back to the cabin. What she would do once there, she had not thought of yet, but in this moment she wanted nothing more than to be alone and away from him.

“Emma,  _ please _ ,” Paul yelled as she descended down the hall, and it was only then that she realized he had quickly gained on her. Emma came to the door at the end of the hall and scrambled to open it, fighting back the hot tears that collected in her eyes, when a hand shot past her head and struck the door frame with an open palm.

Emma gasped and turned around, backing against the door as Paul’s other hand came to press flat on the opposite side of the door frame. “ _ Please _ ,” he begged, “I can explain.”

“Can you?” Emma bit, a small snarl tugging at her lips, “Because every time you tell me to trust you and I  _ do _ , something comes around to bite me in the ass.”

“I have my reasoning, I-”

“Then let me hear it.”

Paul let out a shaky sigh and nodded, pushing slowly off of his arms. He took off his hat and ran a hand through his hair, his icy eyes flicking down the hall.

“The coastal village I’m from is called Pi’Xar.”

Emma blinked, “that’s not exactly a  _ small _ coastal village. That’s a kingdom. You’re from a  _ kingdom _ ?”

Paul ground his teeth, “I’m a prince.”

“A prince. You’re kidding me.”

“No, but I have five older sisters, so it’s not like I’m next in line for the throne. I pretty much get to do what I want and go where I’d like with the title of royalty and without the repercussions.”

Emma’s face fell, “so when the crewmembers called you Your Highness… it wasn’t mocking.”

He looked to the side, “No.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I didn’t want you to think my kingdom was making some weird political power grab. I only have your best interests in mind.”

“That still doesn’t explain why you’re  _ rescuing  _ me when you have no political ties to my kingdom except being some trading powerhouse.”

Paul shifted on his heels, unable to meet her gaze. “Hidgens has been a friend of my family for a very long time now. I was traveling nearby when he got in contact with me saying he needed my help, that there was a plot against the life of the young princess. So, I came.” Paul turned his back to her, his hands clasped behind his back. Nervousness crawled across his features. “My first day in the city there was a parade. Some holiday of some sorts, lots of music and celebrating. And the royal family. The moment I saw you, sitting with your sister, I knew that…”

Emma watched him with wide eyes as he trailed off, staring down the dimly lit hallway. “You knew that…?”

He paused for a moment, then turned back to her, his jaw clenched and eyebrows furrowed. “I knew that… I needed to help you. So, I met with Hidgens, he took me in. I know a lot about the stars, and about sea travel and merchant trade. I don’t know how much you know about my kingdom’s history but as a coastal trading kingdom we allied with many of the dangerous pirates that had been attacking our formerly militarized kingdom. Overtime, we adopted their ways, traits, mannerisms, stylistic identities.”

“Yeah, I noticed that.”

Paul cleared his throat, his gaze finding hers, as bright and intense as always. “I’m sorry for lying to you. I figured that once we arrived you wouldn’t want anything to do with your past life. Me included. I was prepared to give you coin and send guards to find you and make sure you were safe and protected every now and then. I thought that was what you would want.”

That did sound like something she would want. Independence. Freedom. The chance to roam and explore. Alone.

Emma searched Paul’s vibrant gaze for the answer to a question she didn’t even know. There was distress and acceptance lingering under something clear… was it pain? Loss? There was something so familiar about the emotion painting electricity into his gaze, something that Emma felt deep within her.

Her hands raised to the back of Paul’s neck. It clicked into place. She remembered their night in the astronomy tower, the way his hands caressed hers in the carriage, the softness in his voice, in his gaze. The want. Ah, yes. That was it, wasn’t it?

Want.

“Paul, I want…” Emma’s eyebrows furrowed slightly and she found herself lifting onto the balls of her feet. His face was so close to hers, she could see the rainwater still clinging to his hair and his eyelashes. “I want you.”

She pushed on her feet, and their lips met.

A muffled, surprised sound came from deep in Paul’s throat, though it soon melted into a low groan as his hands dropped the hat and found her waist, his body pressed into hers. 

Paul pushed his chin further forward, deepening the kiss momentarily before pulling back and panting lightly.

“Emma,” he whispered, his eyes narrowed and flicking around her face.

“Do you…” she paused, regaining her breath, “want me, too?” Her hands fell down his chest which was outlined against his damp shirt. Her fingertips curled softly into him.

Paul let his gaze trail up and down her body, and Emma shivered. Her cloak was opened, caught past her shoulders. The dressing gown had gotten soaked in the rain, clinging to her skin and now vaguely transparent. Paul released a small groan, one hand digging into her waist and the other skimming across the robe to the silver tie.

“More than you could know,” he said, and opened the door behind Emma, his hand finding her back and pulling her closer into him. She inhaled sharply as they stumbled backwards into the room and Paul kicked the door closed behind him.

Emma threw her arms around his neck as they continued kissing. It was different than that night in the astronomy tower; here, he was rougher and more confident in his movements. His tongue swiped across her bottom lip and with a long exhale from her nose, Emma parted her lips slightly to allow him entrance. The gentle, lapping waves of his prior demeanor hardened with each crack of lightning that illuminated the dim cabin, and there was something oddly similar in the lashing rain that pelted against the ship and the way in which Paul’s fingers tugged the silver tie of her dressing gown, as if in rhythm every stone-like thud of rain.

The damp gown opened slowly, and Paul inhaled sharply as his hands slid down the trim. Emma’s gaze met his, and her lips parted to say something. At that same moment, a booming clap of thunder sounded through the sky and the ship jolted to the side. Emma let out a sharp gasp, stumbling forward into Paul’s chest. His arms wrapped around her, and there was a clattering noise as the one lit candle toppled over onto the desk, snuffing out the flame as white candle wax spread out across the wooden desktop.

Emma’s breath slowly evened, and she turned around in Paul’s grasp, taking a step towards the desk. She paused. Paul’s arms remained stiff around her, one forearm crossing in front of her chest and the other around her waist.

Emma looked up at him, a smirk upon her lips. “The candle went out.”

Paul’s reply was whispered, his lips so close to her ear that she could feel them move softly against her skin. “I can see you in the moonlight.” His hands moved down her body, his fingertips and palms running over her skin, her thighs, her waist, her stomach. Cupping her breasts momentarily, one arm tightened a grip around her waist and the other moved up to grasp her jaw. “You always look so beautiful.”

Slowly, Paul turned her around, slipping his hands under the dressing gown and around her waist. Emma’s smile not fading, she walked him backwards until his knees hit the back of the bed and he sat down. His gaze crawled up and down her exposed body greedily, and Emma thrived in his hitched breath and dilated pupils.

Barely a sliver of the electric blue was a ring around the outer edge of his eyes, and here, Emma couldn’t help but notice how excitingly dark they looked, like the churning, furious waves under an impossibly blackened sky. 

Emma stood for a moment, allowing Paul’s gaze to wander before she tilted his chin up with her fingers. “Do you have something to say or are you going to sit there looking like a dead fish?”

Paul smirked as he pulled her down into his lap, pushing the dressing gown off of her shoulders. “Can you blame me?” He whispered, pushing his chin up so that his lips pressed under her jaw. Emma sighed lightly as he kissed down her neck. “I’ve thought of you every night.”

“Since the astronomy tower?” Emma asked softly, her breath a little heavier in her throat as Paul nipped what would definitely be a bruise later into the soft skin above her pulse. His hands wandered up and down her body, cupping, skimming, pulling at her damp hair to allow himself more access to her neck, desperate for more contact that Emma would be damned if she didn’t allow. Her fingers tugged at the damp fabric of Paul’s shirt and he tore his lips from her skin to let her take it off.

“Since I met you, Your Highness,” Paul confirmed, his voice getting lower and more hoarse in his throat. His hands finally moved down to her waist and he flipped them over, pushing Emma firmly into the bed in a way that made a small gasp leave her lips. Paul smiled pleasantly, smug to have surprised her, and kissed her lips once more before asking a question.

“May I?” 

Emma tilted her head at him in confusion, until she felt his fingertips tracing patterns on the insides of her thighs and a new, hungry sort of darkness fell over his expressions like a storm cloud. A flash of lightning brightened the cabin, and Emma’s heart beat loudly in her ears at the way the shadows stretched across Paul’s face. Unable to wait, she nodded.

A smirk tugged at the corner of his lips as he pressed his body onto hers in a slow, controlled movement, and Emma delighted in the feeling of being trapped between his toned, still slightly damp, body and the mattress. He kissed her, then moved his mouth down her neck, this time not pausing to suck and bite. Paul nipped a light trail down her collarbones, then to her breasts, pausing for a moment to pay attention to each momentarily, and he couldn’t help but smirk into her soft skin at the sharp inhale from Emma’s mouth.

Her hands found his damp hair and clung to it as Paul set a determined path down her stomach and navel. He teasingly kissed the insides of her thighs, flitting around where he knew she wanted him most, until one honestly pathetic whimper from Emma and he licked a broad stripe from bottom to top. Emma shuddered as he repeated the action, her fingertips digging into his skull.

His mouth was heaven on her, and despite the treatment she was typically given on a daily basis in the castle, Emma once again found that she felt she had never received such attentive care as the care she was given by Paul. His mouth focused on her clit as he slid a finger inside of her, twisting it as he listened carefully for her sharp intake of breath and light groans.

Paul flooded her senses with such an intense feeling of pleasure that it bewildered her, and as he set his hand at a slow thrusting pace, a sighing moan streamed from Emma’s lips and she arched her back slightly, tilting her head back into her pillow. Pleasure rose like water against a dam inside of her as Paul continued his determined attentions. His name fell almost incoherently from Emma’s lips when he added a second finger and he concentrated on that reaction, repeating the same, deliberate motion at a faster pace until the rising pleasure spilled overtop the dam and a long moan dropped from Emma’s lips as her entire body tightened considerably, her back arching and her head thrown wildly back.

Paul climbed back up her body, kissing her as the pleasure rippled dimly under her skin and then faded gradually. Emma’s eyes peered open and she laughed softly at Paul’s satisfied expression. 

“That was incredible,” she sighed, her hands falling to the back of his neck as she pulled him in for another slow kiss. She drew back slightly, then pushed forward once more, conveying in the kiss a deep hunger that Paul returned enthusiastically. His chin pushed forward, and Emma moaned as her head sank roughly into the pillow. She rolled her hips against his, excited at the feeling of something hard straining against his tight black pants, and Paul balled the sheets in his white-knuckled fists.

“You know,” Emma whispered as Paul sat up, working to unbutton his pants as quickly as possible, “‘ever since I met you’ is a fairly long time, Sea Prince.”

“Just a few months,” was the grinned reply. Paul began to tug his pants off and Emma sat up on her shoulders, watching him with a mischievous smile and heavy-lidded eyes.

“And yet you hardly made so much as a move until the day we spent together.” Emma was not trying to be teasing, despite the hazy smirk that lingered on her lips in the afterglow of her orgasm. She sought answers, details. There was still a shroud of mystery that hung over Paul Matthews, and it excited Emma to no discernible degree. 

Paul kicked his pants off and leaned back over Emma, lowering himself slowly onto her and forcing her to slip from her place on her elbows so that her back sank into the mattress. Outside, the rain had slowed but not stopped, and the ship didn’t rock nearly as viciously. The moonlight stronger through the thinned out clouds, Paul’s blue-ringed eyes glittered impossibly in the light.

“I’m a patient man, Your Highness. I knew my time would come, eventually. I figured I could do my best to seduce you through rambles about astronomy and trading routes but I’m afraid those tutors robes didn’t do much for me.”

Emma giggled, cupping his jaw with her hands and placing a light kiss in the corner of his mouth. “I wouldn’t say that, blue is certainly your color.”

Paul smiled at her, a heart-meltingly sweet smile that made Emma’s head buzz. “If you say so, Princess.”

Emma bit her lip, not tearing her gaze from his as her hands trailed down Paul’s body, tracing the lines of his abs further down his stomach and running the tip of her middle finger over his length. He let out a huffing breath and kissed the underside of her jaw.

“ _ Paul _ ,” Emma moaned as she hooked her legs around his lower back, and with this approval, he pushed inside of her slowly. They both exhaled slowly as Paul rested his forehead on Emma’s shoulder, pulling and then pushing back in.

“Fuck, Emma,” Paul murmured, his voice low in his throat in a velvety way that sent a thrillingly cold chill down Emma’s spine. His fingers dug into the sheets on either side of her head and she arched her back into him as he continued his thrusting pace. Outside, another boom of thunder reverberated through the room and Emma’s fingertips sank into Paul’s back. 

His breathing turned sharp, and Emma smiled as she pulled his head up so that her mouth could meet his. The pleasure pooled once more in her stomach, humming through her body like silver static. Paul moaned into their kiss, picking up his speed. Much to Emma’s pleasant surprise, one hand raised to grip the headboard and the other slid down between them to press rhythmic circles into her clit. Emma whimpered, breaking their kiss with a sharp gasp that made Paul grin.

“You’re so incredible,” he murmured to her through hoarse pants, kissing her cheek. “And beautiful.” He kissed her jaw. “Kind.” Her neck. “You are breathtaking,” Paul whispered into the soft crook of her shoulder, and Emma’s hands slid up to grip his shoulders tightly.

“Paul,” she muttered, grinning, “I appreciate how sweet you’re being, but if you could fuck me until I couldn’t see, that would be fantastic.”

Paul’s eyebrows raised and he flushed, though his shocked expression melted into a smile and he nodded. His thrusting pace picked up once more, as did the speed of his fingers on her clit, and Emma groaned, her eyes falling shut as she felt her release build and tip over, collapsing spectacularly upon her like a golden wave. Paul pulled out from inside of her as he followed suit, toppling over the edge in a beautiful sight, a tending, clenched jaw, tightened fists, and almost incoherent, under-the-breath murmuring.

Paul rolled onto his back by Emma’s side, both of them listening to their own pants and to the soft pattering of rain on the window pane, letting the last bits of the pleasure draw away like waves from a sandy shore.

Emma was the first to break the silence.

“Paul,” she said, looking at the ceiling, “if I went and traveled around a bit, see places I’ve always wanted to see, go to the places I was taught about, would you want to… want to join me?”

There was a small pause that seemed to stretch on for hours, and then Paul shifted. He rolled onto his side and propped himself up on one elbow, raising an eyebrow. “Really?”

A knot formed in Emma's throat and she shrugged. “Unless you have princely duties to attend to.”

“I thought you wanted to travel alone,” Paul responded, though he was unable to keep a smile from tugging at his lips.

“It’s very dangerous out there for young women such as myself, especially on-the-run princesses.”

“You tried to choke me out with your own rope binds.”

“And it almost worked.” Paul laughed, making Emma smile nervously. Which was weird. “Nervously”... she was never nervous. “You’re avoiding my question.”

Paul leaned down to kiss her, stroking her hair softly. Everything about his caress was gentle, not as if she was fragile, but as if she was his. “I would like that more than anything, Your Highness.”

With a happy smile, Emma leaned back up and kissed him, softly, slowly. Yeah. This could be nice.

~

The ocean had become crystal.

In the glaring sunshine, the slow, cerulean waves glittered as if the dancing rays were trapped below them and if Emma squinted, she swore she could see the pale sand of the ocean floor.

The coast was drawing closer, and Emma gripped the sides of the ship tightly in anticipation. Down the shore, the beach was bustling with docked ships and merchants running about, loading and unloading boxed cargo. On the complete opposite end, however, a white palace stood proudly atop a rocky cliff. The bottom of the cliff had eroded away, worn down by persistent ocean waves and so the ledge on which the palace sat jutted out almost precariously.

Even so, it was wonderfully majestic in the white sunlight, framed elegantly against an impossibly clear sky. The change in temperature had been remarkably apparent as well, and now, the thin, brightly colored dresses and shirts provided suited the climate well.

A pair of strong hands slipped around Emma’s waist and a hard body pressed against her back.

“Like the view?” Paul whispered into her skin as he kissed the soft space below her ear.

Emma smiled, shaking her head slowly. “I can’t believe you grew up here, it’s amazing!”

Paul grinned into her skin as Emma turned around in his hold, bringing her hands to his neck to kiss him. Paul returned the kiss eagerly, pulling her closer into him.

“Question, did you buy me that dressing gown back in my kingdom?” Emma whispered when they pulled apart.

Paul blushed lightly, caught off guard by the question. After a moment, he smiled very hesitantly. “I thought it looked pretty.” 

Emma laughed, and Paul’s smile widened. This dork. “Do I get to meet your sisters?” His smile dropped. Paul made a face and groaned.

“Do you have to? Is it not enough to immediately venture the world without you having to meet any of my insane family?”

“At least your family didn’t create a plot against your life. It must be nice to have so many of them.” Emma said. Paul scratched at the back of his neck and leaned on his elbows against the ship ledge. He was in a deep blue, flowy shirt, the sleeves pushed up past his forearms. He didn’t look uncomfortable anymore.

“That’s a very good point. They’re chaotic but… it’s fun, I suppose.”

Emma paused, watching the beach line for a moment before breaking into a large grin. “They’re all giant bullies aren’t they?” Paul groaned but smiled, dropping his head down as he turned around to lean his back against the ledge.

“Why else do you think I’m such a big pushover? They’re all terrible, except for my oldest sister. Which counts for something, I guess, seeing as she’s going to be the one to rule.”

“Do you want me to stick up for you?” Emma asked, moving over to lean on Paul’s chest and tapping his nose.

His smile widened, and he pushed a strand of her hair behind her face. “My sisters are meaner than you might think, oh galliant one.”

Emma grinned, rising on the balls of her feet and spreading her hands flat on his chest to kiss Paul softly. He sighed against her mouth, his hands landing on her waist. Emma ran her tongue across her bottom lip when she pulled back, raising an eyebrow. “Well, lucky for you, so am I.”

“Yeah,” Paul whispered, his large, glassy eyes flicking wildly around her face, “lucky for me. Where do you want to go first, considering my sisters won’t chain me up in the cellar to prevent me from leaving ever again. It’s been a while since I’ve been home.”

Emma giggled, “I thought you would be planning that out, Sea Prince.”

“If it was up to me, I would say we travel around and play it by ear. However, it’s not up to me.”

Her smile widened, “unplanned and reliantly spontaneous? That sounds awfully irresponsible.”

Paul hummed and nodded his head, “I thought you would like it.”

With a small, content sigh, Emma nuzzled her face into Paul’s chest.“I’m excited to explore the world with you, Princey.”

His hand caught her jaw and tilted her chin up. Paul kissed her deeply, and she wrapped her arms around his shoulders, smiling lazily as she pulled back. Paul planted a small kiss on her forehead and grinned. “We’ll be unstoppable, Your Highness.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Love you and stay safe ❤️❤️❤️

**Author's Note:**

> Eyo comment if you want, not mandatory but certainly appreciated!


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